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The phrase ‘lost in thought’ was an accurate description of how Wanderer moved along the coast of Starsand Shoal. Really, it was an understatement; he appeared almost mindless as he drifted on the sand, seemingly moving with no sense of direction. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he felt someone slam into his shoulder, knocking him down. ‘Who the hell is here right now, and who has that much audacity?’ he immediately thought to himself.
“Watch where you’re going,” Wanderer seethed. Quickly, he brought himself back to his feet and started dusting himself off, but froze when he looked up to see who had essentially shoved him to the ground. Standing before him was the man he despised more than anything or anyone else. The world seemed to stop as the taste of bile and the onset of rage overwhelmed his senses – he hadn’t even registered that the masked man was speaking to him, and only heard him midway through what he assumed to be an introduction.
“…I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet. You may call me what I am most commonly referred to as: ‘The Doctor’.”
“I know exactly who you are. I really don’t need to hear your pathetic attempt at introducing yourself, Dottore,” Wanderer spat out, glaring at the man in front of him, his rage visible to anyone with eyes.
Dottore faltered – it was just for a moment, but it was clear to Wanderer, as he knew his mannerisms. It was rare for the eternally composed “Doctor” to show any resemblance of emotion aside from delusion. Yet here he was: his smile slipped for just a brief moment, and that was all the confirmation Wanderer needed to know that he’d intrigued Dottore.
After a few beats of silence, Dottore recovered and grinned, his jaw clearly tense and lips tight. “I can appreciate you doing research on who I am. But pray tell, how do you know that name, hm? Surely, there aren’t many records of me throughout Teyvat.” Despite his mood clearly shifting to something akin to rage, he couldn’t help but ask, his head slightly cocked.
“I know a lot more than just a name,” Wanderer sharply corrected him. “Don’t worry, I am not interested, nor do I have any intention to share this information. It’s not exactly desired at the Akedemiya.”
At the mention of the Akedemiya, Dottore perked up. “Oh, I’m flattered! Had I known that I had fans, especially at the Akedemiya, I would’ve made it a point to visit sooner than I did,” he chirped, smiling unnaturally wide. “Such a shame, isn’t it?”
Wanderer scoffed. “You misunderstand me. I never said anything about liking you in any capacity, did I?” He began to mentally calm himself down – attacking Dottore in the middle of nowhere with no backup wasn’t exactly a wise decision, and he knew that if he continued to play this role of ‘student that knows too much,’ he’d end up doing one of two things: expose his history with The Doctor, or physically fighting him. Of course, he wished that he could do the latter, but Wanderer wasn’t stupid; he knew that he could not beat Il Dottore “Second of the Fatui Harbingers” in a fight… realistically, he would barely come close to even harming him.
“I suppose you did not explicitly say that you liked me,” Dottore mused, “but really, why would you know so much about me, as you claim to, if you weren’t fond of me, hm?”
“Because,” Wanderer hissed through his teeth, jaw clenched, “I wanted to know exactly how to torment you to the most extreme degree. Speaking of degrees, could I see the one you received from the Akedemiya? Oh, my apologies… I forgot that you don’t have one. Isn’t that interesting that I know that, Zandik?”